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My father trusted him, and Tavian murdered him. Watched me grieve. Helped me rebuild. All while planning to do the same to me someday.

"I understand how much you want to make your uncle pay for what he tried to do to you and what he most certainly had done to your father," Amara continued. "But charging off wounded and furious isn't strategy—it's suicide."

Vessa nodded emphatically. "Raxen, we need to handle this strategically. We need to set the trap for him and expose what he did to the pride. Make the pride see the man Tavian really is and clear your name and preserve our legacy once and for all."

She's right. They're both right.

The logical part of his mind understood their reasoning, but his lion wanted blood. Wanted justice. Wanted to feel Tavian's throat between his jaws.

Heavy footsteps in the corridor announced Jalen's arrival. The security commander entered carrying medical supplies, his bronze face grim but satisfied. "Bandages and antiseptic," he announced, handing the materials to Amara. "The estate is secure, and we've accounted for all the attackers."

"Don't let Tavian, Sori, and Leon escape," Raxen commanded, his voice carrying the full weight of his Alpha authority despite his weakened state. "Find them now."

Though they're probably already running.

The thought sent fresh fury through him. His uncle was too smart to stick around once the assassination failed. By now, Tavian was likely halfway to whatever bolt-hole he'd prepared for this contingency.

"Understood," Jalen replied with a sharp nod. "I've got teams tracking all possible escape routes. If they're still in Solaryn territory, we'll find them."

Jalen departed with Vessa close behind, leaving Raxen alone with Amara and the weight of his uncle's betrayal. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the sound of Amara efficiently organizing medical supplies.

Moments later, a soft knock announced the healer's arrival. The elderly woman entered with the brisk confidence of someone who'd treated countless battle wounds, her silver hair pulled back in a practical bun. "Alpha," she greeted respectfully before turning to examine his injuries.

The healer's hands moved with professional efficiency, cleaning and treating each wound with practiced care. "You're fortunate," she said after several minutes of focused work. "The chest wounds look worse than they are. No vital organs damaged, though you've lost more blood than I'd prefer."

She wrapped his torso in clean bandages, her movements precise and economical. "The shoulder and ribs will heal cleanly if you rest properly. Several days of bed rest, minimal movement, and absolutely no shifting until the wounds close completely."

Several days?

While Tavian consolidated his position or disappeared entirely.

"I will make sure he stays in bed and recovers," Amara said firmly, her tone brooking no argument.

The healer nodded approvingly. "Good. He's stubborn enough to reopen these wounds if left to his own devices." She packed her supplies efficiently. "I'll return tomorrow to check the dressings."

After the healer departed, Raxen found himself alone with Amara in the lamplight of his chambers. "Thank you for saving my life tonight," he said, his voice carrying depths of emotion he rarely let himself show.

Amara's smile transformed her entire face, chasing away the shadows of recent violence. She reached out to cup his face with gentle fingers, her touch sending warmth through his battered body.

"I was just repaying the favor for you saving my life the other day," she replied, her thumb tracing his cheekbone.

How did I get so lucky? The thought struck him with overwhelming force. My magnificent mate.

She was everything he'd never known he needed and more than he'd ever dared hope for. A partner who could stand beside him through whatever storms came, not because duty demanded it, but because she chose to.

SEVENTEEN

AMARA

Two days of playing nurse to a wounded Alpha had taught Amara several important lessons. First, lion shifters healed with supernatural speed that made human recovery times look glacial. Second, Raxen possessed the patience of a caged predator when forced into bed rest. Third, she'd developed an alarming talent for anticipating his escape attempts.

"The bathroom window is too small," she called from the sitting area of his private chambers, not bothering to look up from the security reports Jalen had delivered that morning.

Raxen's frustrated growl drifted from the en suite bathroom, followed by the sound of running water. "I wasn't planning to escape through the window."

"Of course not. You were probably considering the ventilation grate above the shower." Amara turned a page, fighting back a smile.

She finally glanced toward the bathroom doorway as Raxen emerged, a towel wrapped around his lean waist and droplets of water still clinging to his skin. The sight of him—all that barely contained power and masculine beauty—still made her pulse quicken despite spending the past forty-eight hours in constant proximity.